Wednesday, 28 September 2016

September Music


SEPTEMBER MUSIC

I write this to you dear readers with bleary eyes and a strong urge for a cup of tea, having spent most of my day off being a good lil' 3rd year student and doing my recommended reading (and baking a cake too cos CAKE). So you know, if anyone wants to sit down and talk about how children acquire language and what happens when they don't, just give me a bell and we'll sort it right out. In the mean time, I thought it would be nice to compile a music post because it's been about a month since my last one, and since then the old Spotify favourites list has quadrupled in size.

So in between rubbing my tired eyes and highlighting key information and trying to get my head around how the brain works, I have been putting together a super funky playlist full of new music for you dear readers to enjoy. A lot of the songs are new releases you may or may not have heard, and a couple are new artists that I've found and think you might like too. I also adore doing these posts because it gives me the chance to dip my toe in the musical waters and see what beauties I can find, as does it give me the chance to share my favourite finds with you fabulous people. My personal favourites this month include The Lemon Twigs, Jack Garratt, James Arthur, Crystal Fighters and Christine & The Queens

So I hope you have a nice little bop and rave to the songs, and if you're also back at the grind too, trying to get your education, I totally feel you. Remember that it's not the be all and end all, it's ok to take a break and chill, and cake is always your go to gal.

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THE GREATEST SIA & KENDRICK LAMAR


FAR CRY JACK GARRATT


IN MY MIND THE AMAZONS




THE CHASER TWIN ATLANTIC


KISS THE SKY JASON DERULO


SAY YOU WON'T LET GO JAMES ARTHUR


THESE WORDS THE LEMON TWIGS


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STARBOY THE WEEKND FT DAFT PUNK


MY WAY CALVIN HARRIS


SOUVENIR ROCK SHOP SAVOY MOTEL


GOOD AS NEW VACATIONER


ALL NIGHT CRYSTAL FIGHTERS


GIVE ME A REASON
JAGWAR MA


SCIENCE FICTION CHRISTINE & THE QUEENS


HURTS EMELI SANDE


WASTE A MOMENT KINGS OF LEON


BLOW YOUR MIND DUA LIPA


16 BEAT METRONOMY

GAME TIME WHITE ESKIMO


THIN AIR TEENAGE FANCLUB


SEND THEM OFF! BASTILLE


AIN'T MY FAULY ZARA LARSSON


EMERALDS BEAR'S DEN


GEMINI FEED BANKS


SILENT MOVIE SUSAN THE BIG MOON

Sunday, 25 September 2016

Looking For Love In The Wrong Places


LOOKING FOR LOVE IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES

Yesterday morning I was woken up by a phone call from my grandparents. They were just calling to see how my first week at uni has been. It was such a small gesture, but I couldn't help be so moved and touched by it. That they had woken up early and taken the time to pick up the phone and see how I am. Even though it was such a simple thing to do, it meant the absolute world to me, and it made me feel so incredibly grateful to have these wonderful, caring, loving people in my life. It made me wonder how I ever got so lucky to have my Nan and Grandad as my grandparents, as my family. I also thought about how my Grandad recently told me about his secret dreams and ambitions, words he has never spoken to another, and how much it meant to me, that he had such trust and faith in me to feel brave enough to do that. And it then got me thinking about my Mum, who has been sending me texts every few days letting me know what she's been up to, making sure I have enough money in my bank account, seeing how I am. It also made me think of the numerous phone calls we've already had this week alone, just checking in on one another as time and distance separates us once again. How even though we can wind each other up the wrong way and have our disagreements, the fundamental underlying emotion is always love, no matter what happens, no matter what we do. How lucky I am to have a mother like that.

I thought about my Dad, and the little lovely texts he likes to send me every once in a while. How we check in with one another on Facebook and support one another as we go about living our lives. What an amazing Dad he has been to me throughout my life, and how I couldn't have asked for better. How lucky I am to have been raised by a strong, fierce, loving mother and a father who exudes kindness and love and has a heart of pure gold. And then I thought about my sister, and how hard it was for us to say goodbye to one another, how strong and special and powerful our relationship is, how even though I'm in the north west and she's in the south east, our connection only grows in strength. We've called each other every other day, we text or facebook almost every day, and we still manage to hold onto one another and keep each other close, even with all this distance between us. And afterwards I thought about my family, and how even though right now we're spread out across all corners of the country, we're all fighting to keep those bonds alive and strong and well. It makes me realise that family is not the home you live in, the physical presence of people, the blood in your veins or the DNA that makes your being. It's those valuable, priceless, unbreakable connections formed between you all, creating a unique network of love, support and care. 

And all of these thoughts made me start to realise what a broad and rich emotion love is. How it isn't just the romantic kind. How it's so much more varied than we are led to believe. Love is a spectrum with a whole host of variants and deviants comprising it. During my childhood, I was surrounded by the love of my family, who raised and nurtured me and helped me find my footing in this big crazy world. But my youth and infancy meant I never really noticed or appreciated that love. I unconsciously demanded it, was lucky enough to receive it, and therefore came to expect it. When I became a teenager, I still didn't really appreciate, notice or recognise the love that already surrounded me from friends and family. Instead I overlooked it, and fabricated the notion that love is a romantic emotion shared by two people who are attracted to one another and want to be with one another. In my mind, that was love, and so that was what I sought and pursued. Because if that was the only definition and form of love, then it meant that I was severely lacking it in my own life. The love from an external person. Someone who wasn't already in my immediate circle. 

Throughout my teenage years, I was so preoccupied with finding that external love, that I failed to recognise the fact that I was already the recipient of so much love from those around me. I thought I needed love in the same way I needed air, water, food. And I thought it didn't count unless it was the romantic kind of love. So as a result of that, I was often unhappy and a little bit lost, yearning, unsatisfied, empty, disillusioned, frustrated, confused. My life was never really complete, I was never really complete, and it was never going to be complete until I found that one particular kind of love that I was seeking. It has only be in the last couple of years, that my perspective and opinion has changed. Maybe it's because I've grown up and matured. Maybe it's because I've experienced and learnt and seen new things. Maybe it's because I moved to a new city and opened up my world and allowed it to grow. Maybe it's because I've met so many new people. I don't know. But somewhere along the way, I began to realise that my idea of what love wasn't quite right.

And I came to realise that love is so varied, even in all it's romantic, platonic, familial forms. The love you receive from one person is not the same as the love of another, and the love you give is different each and every time. I came to realise that romantic love is not the only love out there, and that likewise romantic love is not necessarily the love I need to feel whole and complete and at peace. I came to realise that in seeking out that one very precise kind of love, I had failed to recognise and appreciate the love that has always been there for me all along, and how that alone is more than enough love for anybody. I had essentially been looking for love in all the wrong place, and it's often the case that the very love you seek is the one that's right there under your nose, behind your back, standing next to you. And obviously that romantic love is brilliant and powerful and special and electrifying and important. But I think that our preoccupation with it means we often disregard and neglect and ignore any other kind of love we receive. We often fail to recognise just how fantastic, gorgeous, wonderful and necessary all those other kinds of love are too.

We're so hungry for this love that everyone raves about, talks about, writes about, sings about, that kind of love that is fundamental to our existence. We think it's what we need, and to an extent, yes we do need it, but the older I get, the crazier I think it is that we devote so much time and emotion and energy into finding it. How we believe we can not even exist without it. How life is not even worth living without it. How we are not able to be ourselves and enjoy our lives without it. To me, that's absolutely absurd. It's bonkers how we moan about the lack of it. How we spend hours of our lives looking out for it and willing it into being. How we berate ourselves and we berate each other. How it turns us into someone we're not. How it blinds us and deceives us and deafens us. The day I realised that actually, although I may not have romantic love, I am instead surrounded by so many other kinds of love every single day of my life, was the day I swear my life changed for the better.

I was kicking myself that it had taken me so long to realise it. The love I receive from my family, whether it be in words, telephone calls, hugs, kisses, food, lifts into town, spending our time together, pictures. The love I receive from my friends, whether that be wanting to spend time with me, messaging one another, sharing food and tea and drinks, picking me up from the train station, driving me home, calling me to see if I'm okay, hugs, skype sessions, trusting one another, taking the mick out of another another, being there for one another through the thick and thin. When someone asks you if you had a good holiday. When you're accepted for who you are, faults and all. When someone starts calling you by your nickname instead. When someone lets you meet up with them before a party so that you don't have to go there alone. When someone does crazy dancing with you at the nightclub, and fixes your make up for you when you accidentally smudge it all over your face. When someone wants to take photographs with you and come round to see you and talk to you. When someone writes I like you on the back of your tshirt or tells you you're pretty in Hebrew or trusts you take that shot at the goal or tags you in that picture on facebook or makes you a cake for your birthday. 

Every single day we commit an act of love, in some kind of form, and we send it to another person, whether we realise it or not. It is irrepressible, fundamental, innate human nature. Every single day we experience a reminder that someone loves us and cares about us, even when we fail to realise it. It is often in the tiny little things that people do, the things we often don't even realise we're doing because it's so natural and honest and good. So I guess what I'm trying to say is even when you think you're alone and no one loves you or cares about you and everything is shit, you're wrong. So many people love you in some kind of way. So many people are doing little actions that give away how they feel inside. So many people have got your back and want you to succeed, be okay, be happy, be excited about life. So many people want you to feel like it's okay if you fall, because there's a support network that's ready to catch you. So many people care unconditionally. So many people are on your side. So many people have a little piece of you in the mosaic of their heart. And the sooner you realise all these things, the sooner you start to notice those little actions of love, the sooner you start to become more aware of just how many people love and care about you, the sooner you let your life and soul be filled to the very brim with all that gorgeous, wholesome, unfaltering love you're already receiving by the truck load, the happier you will become. The more peaceful you will become. The more content you will feel. The more alive you will feel. And the more love you will exude into the world too

Friday, 23 September 2016

Gill Button

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GILL BUTTON

Gill Button is an English artist/ illustrator who has one heck of a knack for painting the most gorgeous portraiture you ever did see. Trained at Kingston University, Gill is now based in London and creates illustrations inspired by people and nature and places. With a list of clients as long as your arm, with names including LUSH, Vanity Fair, Gucci, Vogue, The Times, and the BBC, Gill's work is evidently coveted and rightly so too. I don't remember how I came across Gill, but the mere sight of her work was enough to make an impact on me, for I hastily scribbled her name down in my notebook to look up at a later date. 

Upon revisiting Gill's work, the one emotional response that flooded me from head to toe was this: awe. It made me think back to when I did A Level Art, and I was encouraged to seek inspiration from those established, revered names, as part of my artist research. I loved and still love portraiture, yet as much as I admired the skill and unique style of the likes of Lucian Freud, Pablo Picasso, Jenny Saville, I never fully connected with them. They were good, brilliant, but they never inspired me. They never left me dazzled or enraptured. They seemed kind of generic. I was always seeking more, and at the time it frustrated me that my teachers were trying to confine me to a limited range of artists. Artists whose name was a currency in itself. What about the new talents? What about the artists that were important and inspiring to me?

Looking at Gill Button's work reminded me of all those portraiture artists, but there was, is, something so different about it. In my opinion, Gill's work is not only on a par with it, it's even better. There's something so exciting, rich, alluring, alive. Those thick opaque oils. Those broad, expressive, fluid, slick brushstrokes that are so devastatingly pleasing to look at. Those muted, daring, striking colour palettes. I adore the way those broad strokes somehow manage to create such intricate detail and definition and overall clarity. I adore the perfect equilibrium between light and shade, and that addictive colour gradient. I adore the little imperfections, like how the brushstrokes sometimes falter, deviate, splutter, swirl, and the paints run into one another. I love the curves and angles and grooves of the faces. I love the way Gill appears to so effortlessly capture those facial expressions and emotions, and with such depth and elegance too. Her work feels so innate and soulful and humane.

In my eyes, Gill's work is art in the truest sense. This is what good art looks like, and this is what it should do. I connect with it instantly. It leaves me wanting more. It intrigues me and amazes me, and I could spend endless hours lost in one picture. It makes me reconsider the human form and encourages my inner humanity. It provokes my thoughts and feelings and curiosity. The talent and passion contained in just one picture blows my mind, and it makes me wish that the world of art wasn't so focused on the elite, a select few. How absurd it seems, that those with who possess such natural, brimming, spectacular talent and prowess, can fall through the cracks and evade the recognition they so rightly deserve. So to celebrate Gill Button, who is so very special and utterly fabulous, here is a selection of some of my favourite Gill Button pieces, which I hope dazzle you as much as they dazzle me. 

All images belong to Gill Button, and if you love Gill's work, you can find more of it here!


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Monday, 19 September 2016

Goodbye Summer


GOODBYE SUMMER

All summer long I have known that I would write this post. I have been waiting months for this moment to finally come around, and now that it's here, I can't  help but feel a little bit bittersweet. On the one hand, I'm feeling so grateful and content with this brilliant, incredible, life changing summer I've experienced. On the other hand, I'm so sad that it's now finally over. Similarly, I can't quite believe that I'm going back to Manchester for the third time, ready to get on with doing the third year of my course. When did that happen? How did I get to this point? Even though this summer has felt quite literally infinite, at the same time it feels like it has gone in the blink of an eye. In spite of having lived it as fully as I possibly could, I still don't feel like I've done enough. Seen enough. Appreciated it all enough. Today the weather in Manchester is so beautiful. Sunny, warm, bright, golden, with a hint of autumn mixed in for good measure. It feels a little bit like Groundhog Day, and this summer has been caught in a time loop all along. And now it's time to reset back to the very start and let it happen all over again, exactly like this forever more. 

This summer has honestly been the best one I've ever experienced in my whole entire life. I can't think of any summer that has been better than this one. From the start right through to the end, it has been one heck of an amazing rollercoaster ride, jammed full with so much fun, love, happiness, excitement. Summers like this don't usually happen to me. Back in March time, the very thought of this summer absolutely terrified me. Three and a half months of nothing stretched out before me and although the prospect of doing nothing was somewhat appealing, at the same time, I'm a rather restless individual and I can only take it easy for so long. I instinctively yearn for something, whatever that something may be. I can't sit still for too long. I don't want to sit still for too long. I feel like I'm wasting my life away. I get bored. I think too much. I feel trapped. My soul feels so-so. My excitement and passion for life relaxes. My urge to get off my backside and do something, anything, sparks up like a wildfire and burns like one too.

I remember I spent hours and hours researching things I could do this summer. Once the fear of having nothing to do was embedded in my mind, I couldn't think of anything else except that. Looking back now, I can't believe how stressed out I was about making this summer into something special. But in some respects, that fear and anxiety was the perfect motivator. It prompted me to seek out opportunities I've previously been too afraid to seize. It made me do the things I've always wanted to do. It has helped me to broaden my horizons and take note of all the amazing possibilities out there. It made me become impulsive and braver and more creative. It ignited a desire to make things happen. It led me to all these wonderful people who have changed me more than they will ever know. It helped me to take control of my life and it helped me to really find myself, and understand the kind of person I am. And to me, that's pretty incredible.

All summer long it's felt like I've been making it up as I go along. Piece by piece I was constructing my summer and it's only now, at the finish line, that I look back and see what a masterpiece I ended up making. This summer was my summer in the truest sense. It has felt like a personal adventure, focused on me and what I want. A time to learn about myself. A time to realise what I want. A time to grow, learn, better myself. A time to explore. A period of absolute freedom, and devoting myself to the things that make me feel happy and fulfilled and excited to be alive. 

I took some of my savings from my Bluboca store and booked a short holiday to Prague, after meeting a guy from the Czech Republic who spoke so highly of his beautiful home city. I learnt about Czech culture and tried trdelnik. I volunteered at the Stroke Association, leading group and 1:1 sessions with service users. I spent quality time with my Nana and Grandad, going for walks in the countryside, eating Nana's Spanish omelettes and empanadas, encouraging my Grandad to write his book. I discovered new eateries in Derby, including The Carnero Lounge and Milk & Honey Deli. I painted glass bottles and gave them as gifts. I read books about love, Buddhism, cooking, the human body, Patti Smith. I watched Glastonbury on the BBC. I voted to stay in the EU, and then felt that peculiar uncertainty, upon waking up to find out we'd left instead.

I stayed in a wooden lodge in Bangor and went on a day trip to Anglesey. I collected pocketfuls of shells, ate fish and chips, and felt the wind blowing wildly through my hair. I went on a big family holiday to the Forest of Dean. I went on a day trip to Liverpool with my sister. I went out clubbing in Nottingham for my friend's 20th birthday. I went walking in the Peak District with two of my best guy friends, and I forgot to lock the loo door when we stopped off at a pub for a drink, and subsequently had a stranger walk in on me mid pee. I visited my oldest friend in Portsmouth, stopping over in London on the way. I tried McDonalds apple pie. We went on a late night visit to the beach and walked along the seafront. We bought all the frozen cocktails in Tesco and had 1am Mcflurries and an early morning trip to Ikea. We made cakes and binge watched TV and went clubbing in Popworld. I tried Kylie Jenner's lipgloss and accidentally smeared it all over my chin, and a random girl in the club loo helped me to wipe it all off.

I became an emotional wreck after watching Pretty Little Liars (still not over that finale). I watched Bake Off and discovered the absolutely brilliant Gilmore Girls. I began drinking Mochas. I went on a mini pub crawl with my Dad. I watched Bridget Jones's Baby with my Mum and laughed so hard I almost wet myself. I went on a steam train and sat on a bench overlooking the point where Wales and England meet. I started wearing a watch after 6 years refusing to point blank. I became the proud owner of the most gorgeous pair of red leather boots you've ever seen. I went on holiday to Rome with my family, and saw the Colosseum, Palatine Hill, Piazza Navona, the Trevi Fountain, the Spanish Steps, and all these other incredible sights. I ate authentic Italian pizza and pasta and so. much. gelato, and made friends with a Sicilian restaurant owner who subsequently gave us free Sicilian dessert wine. I fed pigeons and saw the Pope in real life, and I watched Spectre at an outside cinema and we were sat right where the race scene occurs on the banks of the River Tiber.

I had a picnic in the park with one of my old friends, and we listened to good music and talked and laughed and lay under the beautiful sunshine feeling so happy and content. I shared three pitchers at Spoons with my friend and couldn't sit upright in my chair after. I discovered the amazingness of red wine. I volunteered at a stammering conference in Manchester and met so many inspirational people. I helped out a leading stammering specialist and she gave me a copy of her new book for free. I listened to Ed Balls give a talk. I went for a gorgeous Indian meal with my friend and after we had late night pudding and we had to walk back because we were so stuffed. I cooked dinner with a couple of my old housemates. I watched the Ab Fab movie and ate Chinese cream buns. I stayed in Manchester for a week with my sister and we watched 3 Disney films in a row and ate chickpeas and ice cream and pizza. I went to Teacup Kitchen and tried rainbow cake. I had my picture taken beside The Beatles statue. I had my sister's friends come stay at my house and took them sightseeing around the city. 

I went to Cloud 23 at night and saw Manchester aglow. I went to Chatsworth, and Anne Hatheway's house in Stratford. I saw Kelly from Corrie in a Sainsburys Local. I helped my sister move into her new house in London and cried more times than I care to admit. I listened to Radio 2 live whilst sat in Hyde Park in the sunshine, talking to a topless old man who was sunbathing next to me. I watched Finding Dory. I grew my hair out. I watched James Bay perform live at my beloved Castlefield Bowl. I passed all my exams and made it to 3rd year. I volunteered at a kids camp and spent the week working alongside the most brilliant group of people, helping all these brilliant, gorgeous, amazing kids have the holiday they deserve. I bough my first tent and camped for the first time. I sat by the bonfire. I read Harry Potter and with all the voices too. I looked after a group of children and made them smile, laugh, wiped away their tears, had these bonkers, crazy, imaginative conversations, played games and drew and made countless scoobies with them. I acquired the nickname Ronaldo, with my accomplice being Messi, and I let all his goals in so that he would win. I explored a cave that was so high up we could see all the Peaks stretching out around us. 

I went swimming and got dunked an endless amount of times. I visited Buxton and bought caramel shortbread. I took part in a talent show and had a giant ice cream with raspberry sauce and sprinkles and I led a craft challenge and made some really wonderful friends. I volunteered at Just So Festival and camped in the rain. I painted signs, I gathered firewood, I ate like a Queen, I helped unpack 10 crates of Soreen. I got sunburn, I wore a flower crown and so. much. glitter. I did heavy lifting and helped put boats into a lake. I taught people how to make paper lanterns and laughed till I cried with a festival-goer who had a knack for innuendos. I danced in a marquee filled with strobe lights and mist and ribbons and lanterns. I met so many brilliant people from all over the country and made what I hope will be lifelong friendships. I ate the best porridge I've ever had in my life. I had a sleepover with two of my best friends, which involved crisps, prosecco, old dance show DVDs, pancakes, cakes and a last minute trip to ASDA. I went with my best friend to drop our other best friend off at the airport, seeing her off as she began her new life in Paris.

I acquired dodgy stripey tan lines on my feet. I finished one notebook and started another, and my drawing has improved too. I created graphic designs for uni friends. I met up with an old school friend I haven't seen in four years and had a good old catch up. I saw one of my old primary school friends who is just as bonkers as I am, and we laughed so hard and came up with all these crazy ideas and talked absolute nonsense, and it was amazing. I went for late night walks and spent all day in my pyjamas and discovered the Before... film trilogy and drank rose in the garden and went on impulsive nights out in town. I did so many things. I learnt so many things. I discovered so many things. I met so many people. I made an infinite amount of memories. I spent so much quality time with people I love and care about so very much. I laughed so hard and talked so much. I explored my own country and visited new ones. I pushed myself out of my comfort zone. I did things I never thought I could do. I followed my heart. I challenged myself. I lived my life to the full.

When I think back to the start of this summer, I don't even feel like the same person any more. That person, great as she was, feels more like a memory now. So much has happened between then and now, and I'm absolutely perplexed that I did so much in such a short space of time. So much living and experiencing. This summer has felt like a gift I've given to myself, and without doubt I have cherished and appreciated every single second, as much as I possibly could. Something has changed inside me this summer, and I know that I am all the better for it. After all, a spark is all you need to start a fire. So summer 2016, what more can I say except thank you, from the depths of my heart and soul for every little thing. You have made me happy beyond my wildest dreams, I will cherish you always, and I now feel ready to face life and the challenges before me, with a new faith, hope, confidence and determination. And for that I always be so very grateful. 

Saturday, 17 September 2016

Bridget Jones, You Queen

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BRIDGET JONES, YOU QUEEN

I was debating whether or not to write this post, because all I could think to write was: this film is amazing. Go watch it now!!!!!!! Which would scarcely be a sentence, let alone enough to fill an entire post. So initially I did a Mean Girls-esque word vomit over Twitter and conveyed my emotions in 140 capitals instead. But it still wasn't enough. I know capital letters and sparkling love heart emojis can be quite persuasive sometimes, but is it guaranteed to make people hop off their seats, drive down to their local cinema and pay £6 upwards to watch the film you've just been splurging about all over social media? So to be on the safe side, I wanted to dedicate an entire blog post to splurging about this bloody incredible film, Bridget Jones's Baby, because aside from wanting to physically drag you to the cinema to watch it, Bridget is also my homegal 4 eva n always. So in many respects I feel like I owe it to her in some way, because there's no doubt that Bridget's very existence (yes I know she is fictional) has made me feel a lot better about making a right tit of myself over the last few years, as I'm sure she's done for countless other women too.

So what is the film about? Well the general premise is that 43 year old Bridget gets pregnant (waaay) and she's doesn't know who the father is (not so waaaay). A very Bridget Jones-esque scenario if ever there was one. Bridget (the absolutely superb Renee Zellweger) initially gets into her tricky predicament after getting dragged to a musical festival by her new friend Miranda, played by the quite frankly amazing Sarah Solemani. Unsurprisingly, Bridget doesn't dress very appropriately for the festival, and ends up falling head over heels in the mud. Also unsurprisingly, she falls right in front of gorgeous American millionaire Jack Qwant (Patrick Dempsey). After hoisting Bridget out of the mud, Jack and Bridget subsequently spend a romantic night together in a teepee, whilst Miranda is busy zorbing across the festival site with Ed Sheeran. All very well and good, until numerous awkward encounters with old flame Mark Darcy (Colin Firth) also lead to Bridget and Mark spending the night together too. With both flings being scarcely a week apart, and both featuring some biodegradable decade old condoms, it's not much of a surprise that Bridget gets pregnant, and that she isn't too sure who the father of her child is either. 

Now despite being a big Bridget Jones fan (I'm one of those people who's secretly well chuffed that ITV2 don't seem to broadcast anything else except the first two films back to back), I will admit that I thought Bridget Jones's Baby would be, well, shite. It had been 12 years since the last one. I thought that the whole concept of Bridget being pregnant was a bit of an iffy plotline. I was worried that it wouldn't even be a 1/5 as good as the first two films, and that it would ruin everything that made Bridget Jones so brilliant and iconic and timeless in the first place. I was worried they'd follow the plot of the third book, where Mr Darcy is no more. And most importantly of all, Daniel Cleaver, god forbid, wasn't going to be in the film. So it's safe to say my expectations were not that high. Bridget Jones is such an important icon for women of all ages. A fantastic, hilarious and endearing reminder that it's okay not to have everything together, and to also make a right tit of yourself in the process. And I know I personally didn't want that to be lost, especially because it's a well known fact that sequels never really live up to the original film, nor do they quite do it justice. Often a lot of the things that made the original so successful, get lost in the process. And whilst I could handle that with Pitch Perfect 2, I don't think I could bear it if the same happened to Bridget Jones.

So obviously you can imagine my immense pleasure when I found out that this was not the case. Last night, the film's opening night, my Mum and I went to the cinema to watch it. As you'd probably expect, the ratio of men to women was about 9:1, and the screening was packed. I always think the cinema-going experience is a million times better with a full house. And as soon as the first few minutes of the film began, the cries and cackles of laughter were already reverberating loudly and happily across the room. And that pretty much set the tone for the rest of the film. Bridget Jones's Baby isn't one of those momentous cinematic legends, and it isn't going to change the world, but my god is it magnificent. If you want a film that is going to make you laugh from beginning to end, and make you very almost wet yourself numerous times, then this is the film for you. The plot line may not be too intricate, but it is a continual series of absolutely brilliant comedic moments that carry the film so effortlessly, and ultimately so movingly, from it's start right through to that long awaited ending. All the original cast members are back, including Jim Broadbent, Sally Phillips, Shirley Henderson, Celia Imrie, Gemma Jones and Erron Gordon, and there's a cracking performance from Emma Thompson too as Bridget's withering but kindly doctor. 

I adored the endless stream of effortless, classic British wit and humour. All that clever sarcasm, mild offensiveness, awkwardness, foolishness, boldness, craziness, and of course the abundance of swearing. And with her incredibly talented cast supporting her, Renee Zellweger dazzles yet again, putting in a real stellar performance that does absolute justice to her beloved Bridget. Meanwhile Helen Fielding's screenplay is so believable, honest and real. Although there are nods to the previous films and their memorable moments, Bridget Jones's Baby presents itself as a natural progression from where we last saw Bridget in The Edge of Reason. Watching this film, we believe that this is Bridget's life now. We believe that this is what she looks like now. We believe that she would have made these choices, met these people, done all these many things. All the best things about Bridget are retained, and it makes you realise that it was never the plot lines that drove these films to success, it was Bridget herself. Her awkward, beautiful, clumsy, kind-hearted, loveable, clever, foolish, well meaning self. And I'm so glad that they decided to make this final film, partly because I was only young when the first two films came out, and it's so nice to share in the magic and excitement of a new Bridget Jones film, but also because it rounds off the series so perfectly. 

Bridget Jones's Baby is a true testament and celebration of all the things that make Bridget Jones so great, and this film is an absolute delight to watch. Lighthearted. Moving. Hilarious. Clever. A truly magnificent film, and honestly one of the best I have seen in such a long time. So dear readers, what are you waiting for? Go grab your big pants, a glass of wine, get your Bridget Jones on and treat yourself to two hours of absolute cinematic brilliance.

http://www.bridgetjonesmovie.co.uk/

Thursday, 15 September 2016

The Art of Sisterhood


THE ART OF SISTERHOOD

At the weekend, my life as I know it changed again. I had to say goodbye to my sister as she begins her new life down in London. It's a long-held dream she has always aspired to, even when people tried to change her mind. She knew what she wanted, she knew where she belonged, she knew where she wanted to be, she knew what she wanted to do, and she set out to achieve it all. And achieve it she has. My sister had a dream and she was so courageous and brave in following it, and it fills me with immense pride and joy to have watched it steadily come true over the last year. From the first day she verbalised it, to the present, when she moved in to her house in London, my sister has had such faith and conviction in her ambitions, a rare quality to possess, and I admire her so much for it. To watch someone you love achieve their dream, something that means to much to them, something they've worked so hard for, and be blessed with so much happiness, well it's just the most wonderful, beautiful, joyful feeling in the world.

But as much as you want it to, and as much as you tell yourself these things over and over in your mind, and your Mum repeats it like a mantra, and you try and visualise your loved one living this incredible, fulfilling, happy life, it doesn't make goodbye any easier. Even two years after moving out and going to uni (crikey, how time flies!) saying goodbye to my family is still something I struggle with, just a smidge. It still conjures all the feels, and I still sometimes need an emergency cry to clear out the waterworks and I still sometimes need to listen to Boyzone/ Backstreet Boys/ Take That/ take your pick to make me feel better. Goodbyes are just the worst, even when you know you're lucky to have something and someone that makes saying goodbye so bloody hard in the first place (oh Winnie the Pooh, you wise fellow). But saying goodbye to my sister has definitely been the hardest goodbye I've ever had to go through. In my head I had been thinking of all the good things, but when the moment came for us to leave, and we both knew that this was it, and she started crying, I literally burst into tears just like that. I couldn't help myself. Her sadness was my sadness.

And then my parents and I left, and we had tea in the local pub. And when we went back to the car, the curtains in my sister's house were shut, and it was surreal knowing that whilst she was in there, taking tentative footsteps into her new life, we were merely on the outside looking in. We wanted to stay, and be a part of it, but we knew we had to go. At least for now anyway. And I was fine until we joined the M4. The road curved through the perimeters of the city. London in her majesty rippled out from all around us, a sea of buildings, light, motion, as far as the eye could see. And we were right there in the heart of it, still right there with my sister, until suddenly we weren't. The car turned a corner, the city disappeared, and the realisation that my sister was there, and I was here, suddenly hit me. The tears came and they wouldn't stop going. A couple of hours in and I was missing her already. And when we got back home, I went up to my room, and it was so surreal being in the house without her in it. For it to just be Mum, Dad and me. There was a sense of incompleteness. The sense that this is home, but it isn't home in the truest sense until the four of us are together. And then I saw that bloody drawing of Alex Turner she did for me the other Christmas, even when she doesn't like him (or so she claims), and the picture of us from a photo booth ten years ago, that's tacked on my wall, and what do you know, the tears started again. 

Even though we had to say goodbye when I went to uni, and of course there have been lots of smaller goodbyes and hellos in between then and now, I think it was slightly easier because I was the one leaving (I don't like being the one left behind), and because life as we knew it didn't change too much. We still saw each other fairly regularly. Derby was still our home, and where everyone could be found. Family life still resumed as normal. We skyped. We talked on the phone most days. We messaged every single day. We always came back to one another. Saying goodbye to my sister now though, means so many different things. It isn't just saying goodbye to her in the physical sense. It's saying goodbye in the emotional sense. It's saying goodbye to our shared childhood. It's saying goodbye to our teenage years. It's saying goodbye to the home life we all knew. It's saying goodbye to my sister as she is right now, before independence and her new life leave their impending imprint. It's saying goodbye to the little set up we've had going the last few years, where I'm in Manchester and all my family are just over the hills of the Peak District in Derby. It's saying goodbye to living with each other and seeing each other every single day and winding up Mum and Dad and living our lives together in tandem. It's saying goodbye to my soul mate. It's saying goodbye forever, because now that my sister has gone, I don't think she'll ever live back home again, and I don't think I will, and I don't know if we'll ever live together again either. And of course it's saying hello to the present, the future, and all the unknowns and possibilities that await there too. It's just so many things. It's a massive change for all of us, and right now it feels like life is changing in so many different ways. And I've never felt ready for it. The momentousness and importance and reality always hit me when it's too late. 

But obviously change happens. It's only natural. With the passing of time we can't help but move forward and evolve, progress. I think it's just hard when you're happy with how things already are, and you don't really want to have to give that up in exchange for something else, and it's hard accepting that your childhood is officially over. Seeing my sister off into her new life made me think about our lives so far, up to this point, and I ended up getting swept up in the nostalgia of everything. I felt emotional and grateful thinking about everything we have shared together, and that I have been lucky enough to live out all those formative years with her by my side. My sister is my best friend, and my most favourite person in the whole entire world. And it isn't that she's a superhuman, or someone out of the extraordinary. Of course she isn't perfect, and she has her flaws and annoying qualities, as does she have all these amazing qualities and quirks, and if anything her flaws make me love her more. In my eyes she is my favourite person because because of what she means to me, what she brings to my life, what she has taught and continues to teach me, and how we connect as two individuals. We've seen each other at our best and at our worst, and everything in between, and we still love and accept each other unconditionally. It sometimes feels like we know each other better than we know ourselves. My sister is hands down the most valuable, priceless and important gift I have ever been lucky enough to receive in my life, and I'm positive that this will always be the case. I would not be even half the person I am, if it wasn't for her.

People are often very surprised at how close our bond is, and sometimes I don't think they quite understand it either. Most people have good relationships with their siblings, some have mediocre relationships, some don't get on with their siblings at all (cough cough The Gallagher brothers). To me, it's surprising that your sibling could be anything other than a best friend. Even when they're being a noob and pissing you off for whatever reason, all that pales in comparison to all the great things about them. A sibling is your closest ally and closest relation in this world, regardless of biological connections. They are a rare and special connection to have. And if you do happen to share the same mother and father, you and your sibling are both made of exactly the same DNA, just different gene expressions, and it doesn't get much closer than that. I know that for me personally, that's always been such a comforting fact, especially when the world can feel like such a big place. Knowing that there's another person in this world who is the same as me, who is as close to me as anyone else could possibly get. Knowing that my sister is one of the 7 billion people in this planet. These things always make me feel like I'm not alone. All those times when I've felt like no-one would understand, when I've felt that aching loneliness, when I've felt out of my depth and like I didn't belong, it's always been remedied by my sister being there. Whether it's just the thought of her, calling her, texting her, being with her. It's like she puts my soul and mind at peace. She gives me hope and strength. She's the yin to my yang in every sense, and together we make a whole. She feels more like a twin than a younger sister. We're always so in sync with one another, even after time and distance have kept us apart. We think the same things at the same times, we say what each other is thinking, our love lives mirror each other, we share the same opinions, we strive to be the same kind of person.

Being the oldest sibling, I once knew life as an only child, but the funny thing is I don't even remember a life without my sister in it. In my memory, she has always been there. Even now, I forget that she is younger than me. We seem to have always met each other somewhere in the middle. When my sister was born, I apparently used to sit by her cot and call her baby Anna because I couldn't say her whole name. Growing up, we had a tendency to buy matching outfits, and she would check what I was wearing so that we could match. We'd argue over Nintendo DS, her setting up her dolls in my bedroom when I was at keyboard practice, her grassing me up to Mum for something or other. During shared bath time, she always accepted sitting at the tap end. We'd set up shops in my bedroom and take turns being shopkeeper. We play fought and took the mick out of each other. We'd spend hours on SingStar and playing racing games on the PS2. Mum would film videos of us singing, and later we went on to film our own You Tube videos. We'd wake up at 6am every Christmas morning and pester Mum and Dad to wake up. We'd cycle around our suburb together and carry walkie talkies so that Mum could call us home for dinner. We helped each other out of shyness.We were glued to each other's sides, and we always stuck together when it mattered. 

I remember my sister loving me unconditionally when we were younger, and how she always looked up to me and wanted to be like me, and I remember how I often used to reject that. It annoyed me, and I think that's because I was too young to understand it, and I guess I just didn't think I deserved it. But I distinctly remember the moment, sometime in my late primary school years, when I realised how incredibly lucky I was to have my sister. How lucky I was to have someone like her in my life. And how I needed to stop being a stroppy mare and start being nicer to my sister. Let her know I love her too. I distinctly remember that moment, because that's when our relationship became what it is today. That's when I broke down the walls and let her in. That's when I started to put time into our relationship. That's when I started to be more caring, kinder, loving. That's when I started to see her as a friend and an equal, and it changed everything for us.

Of course we still disagreed and fought and had our iffy moments, but for the first time I felt like I had a genuine ally, not an annoying little sister who copied me all the time and got on my nerves. I had someone who I was truly in sync with. Someone who I could trust infinitely. Someone who understood me unlike anybody else. Someone who would always be there. Someone who I wanted to be the best version of myself for. Someone I loved more than I loved myself. Someone I would die for, take a bullet for, defend until my last breath. Someone to share dreams and adventures with. Someone who would become my greatest friend. Our teenage years weren't as difficult as they could have been, because we had each other. She was a constant when my life was changing. I used my experiences and wisdom to help advise and reassure her. We would always go over to each other at school and talk, and that simple thing always turned a bad day into a good one. We would come home from school and I would sit on the worktop, she on the stool, and talk about school, problems, boys, life. We'd go shopping in town together. We'd take trips to the cinema and walks around the neighbourhood. We'd sit and draw together, make cakes, watch films, binge watch TV, and sneak off and sit in our bedrooms talking till late. We'd let out all our emotions and fears with one another, and help each other figure out where to go next. We were never afraid to tell each other the truth. We went through that hideous awkward teenager stage together, and eventually pulled each other out of it and found our own style. 

We would share our dreams for the future, and talk about places we'd visit, where we wanted to live, family, marriage, cars, houses. We navigated all the ups and downs together, each of us taking turns to be the mature one. We argued when one of us didn't agree with the other. We'd nick each other's clothes and wardrobe space. We were bonkers together. We grew in confidence together. We found ourselves together. We learnt from one another. We've encouraged and supported one another, even when it was hard. At the time, it didn't really feel significant or special, and even now when we're together, sometimes I still take it for granted, though I try not to so much anymore. In some respects, I think that our gradual flying of the nest and subsequently being apart from each other, has actually been a good thing. It has made both of us look back on what we've had with more appreciation and affection. It has made us look at the bond we have right now and realise how special, unique and important it is. We're more aware of how lucky we are to have each other. We're more aware of how much the other means to us. 

So even though these times we have known and shared together for the last 18 years have come to an end, and a chapter has now officially closed, I'm starting to feel a lot better about everything. Even though I wish I could see my sister every single day and share every moment of our lives together, I would take the way things are now, over how they were back then, because now every moment we spend together is precious. We appreciate each other more. We make more of an effort with each other. We argue less. We laugh even more than before. Even though we are now further apart than we have ever been in our whole lives, ironically it feels like we're closer than ever. Time and experience have taught me that it takes a lot more than distance to break a bond. Every time my sister and I are back together, it's like we instantly sync right back up with one after, that's if we ever fell out of sync in the first place. And in the spaces in between we are always connected to one another in some kind of way. We still share our lives with one another, perhaps more than we ever did before. It's like we've navigated childhood together, and now we're turning our sights towards adulthood. And sure things are getting tougher, but they're also getting even better than either of us could have ever imagined. 

Our world is no longer contained within these four walls. This city. It now spans counties, countries, continents. Our lives are a shared melting pot of possibility, dreams, hopes, and it feels like we can take on anything if we have each other by our side. So I guess it's time for me to say goodbye to what was, and instead focus on the here and now, and the amazing infinite future that we're creating together piece by piece. I know, that life will no doubt have more ups and downs in store for us. It always does. But I know that it's going to take a lot more than a million earthquakes and a thousand hurricanes and an asteroid collision to break this bond apart. I don't know what my life will look like in five years, let alone ten or twenty. But it's comforting to know that whatever does happen, the one constant, the one thing I can always count on, the one thing that will always be there through thick and thin, near and far, is my sister. And I'm not a millionaire, not even close, but being able to say that, makes me feel like the richest and luckiest person in the whole wide world.

Tuesday, 13 September 2016

Eugenia Loli


EUGENIA LOLI

So let's talk about something rather important here: the artwork of the mind boggingly talented artist Eugenia Loli. I don't think my life can carry on until I've done my part in sharing these breathtaking, intricate, incredible creations with you, in the hopes you enjoy her work as much as I do. Eugenia, who originally hails from Greece, now resides in California and originally worked as a nurse, computer programmer and technology journalist, before going on to fully pursue her magnificent artistic ambitions. Describing herself as a filmmaker and modern vintage collage artist, Eugenia is one of those people who is seemingly born with that primitive urge to create already surging through her veins. She is an artist in the truest sense, with her work being a talented form of self expression that also resonates, captures and speaks to its audience. Eugenia often creates purposefully, with her collages in particular structured by a framework that's designed to impart meaning. What we presume to be an impulsive choice is in fact the very opposite: every choice carries intent, messages, commentaries, and I find it so interesting for an artist to have such ownership over her work. How the work empowers the artist whilst the artist empowers the work.

Eugenia creates her collages by building them up around a base image, expertly intertwining and juxtaposing this spectrum of imagery together. Sometimes the calibration of the images is natural and immediate, other times more thought and consideration is involved. But whatever the method, the result is always a multi-dimensional creation that stuns, wows and awes. There's so much going on in each piece, and each one seems to always make sense, even when you're looking at this hyper-reality which simultaneously boggles and amazes the brain.You can enjoy Eugenia's work purely on an aesthetic level: the colours, the patterns, the structures, the quirkiness of the overall image. The simple components that join together to make that signature complexity. Or, on the converse, you can allow yourself to be drawn right into the heart of that complexity, and enjoy Eugenia's work on a much deeper and more meaningful level. The choice is yours. So in light of that, I'd love to share with you some of my favourite pieces, of which there are many (I don't think I own the decisive gene), and I hope you find looking at Eugenia's brilliant work to be an enlightening, fabulous and inspiring experience.

All work belongs to the wonderful Eugnia Loli, and you can find all the images and more by clicking on the link below!

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*PREPARE TO BE AMAZED!*





















Tuesday, 6 September 2016

Before Sunrise

Image result for before sunrise tumblr

BEFORE SUNRISE

Watching the Before Sunrise film trilogy has been an ambition of mine for the last three years now. I only came about it by chance, after listening to the film reviews on Radio One. They were talking about a film called Before Midnight, and my peculiar disposition for poetic word strings meant I was naturally intrigued by the film as soon as I heard its title. I simply had to find out more about it. Even now, I still remember the presenter talking about the premise of the film, which in itself already had me hooked, and how Before Midnight was the final instalment of a preexisting film arc. She went on to briefly summarise the trilogy, comprising of Before Sunrise, Before Sunset and Before Midnight, and to me, it sounded like such a beautifully simple, endearing and intriguing concept. How each film plots the gradual evolution of two people, Jesse and Celine, across a lifespan. I knew instantly, that I would like this triology. I knew instantly, that it had the capacity to greatly impact my life. I knew instantly, that I needed to write down the name of these films because one day, when the time was right, I would finally sit down and discover the magic of them for myself.

I don't know why I decided to watch Before Sunrise now, after all this time and these many changes and transitions in my life. I can think of plenty of times over the last three years, when I could've looked at that note I scribbled down, and decided that that was the right time. I can think of so many times when I needed to watch this film trilogy. So many times that would've been perfect. I had good reason to. Deciding to begin this film trilogy now of all times, doesn't really make too much sense, because nothing of significance has happened in my life. There was no reason for me to watch this film, other than the simple fact that I wanted to. I think I just always assumed that I would watch this trilogy at a time of great significance in my life. A time where big, amazing, meaningful changes and events were happening. Something to equally match and mirror that expectancy. And in many ways, now doesn't feel like that time. Yet the more I think about it, the more I realise my subconscious must've been onto something. For although my life may not be full of tidal waves and seismic shocks, there is another kind of change going on. A subtle one. Kind of like when the sun rays gradually break through the clouds, and they get stronger and stronger and stronger. Something within me is starting to change, and it feels like it's for the better too. This feels like a turning point.

And I think that's why watching Before Sunrise now especially, has had such a special impact on me. The one I always knew it would. That's why watching it has felt so significant. So important. So moving. So inspiring. I won't forget the time I first watched this film. For those of you who don't know, 1995's Before Sunrise is the first film in the Before... trilogy, all of which were directed and written by Richard Linklater, the genius behind 2014's Boyhood. The story follows American Jesse, played by Ethan Hawke, and French Celine, played by Julie Delpy, who are both in their twenties. They happen to meet one day, June 16th, whilst travelling by train across Europe. Jesse is heading to Vienna, ready to catch a flight back home to America the next day. Celine is heading to Paris, after visiting her Grandma in Budapest. A chance decision on Celine's part leads to their meeting on the train, and as soon as they begin talking, it becomes evident that there is an immediate and rare connection between the two of them. They speak with such ease, openness, trust, vulnerability, confidence, assurance, beauty. It is as if they have always known each other.

Initially, Jesse and Celine are headed in different directions, and so their premature goodbye is imminent. That is until Jesse boldly asks Celine to get off the train with him in Vienna, and spend the next twenty four hours exploring the city with him. In many other scenarios, this impulsive, daring, courageous idea wouldn't bode well for a multitude of reasons, yet when it frames this evidently special and rare moment between two strangers, it suddenly seems like the most logical and perfect idea in the world. And so the rest of the film is spent following in the steps of Jesse and Celine, as they explore the city of Vienna together in the space of just twenty four hours, interacting with its culture, people, places. and embedding their fleeting presence within it. Leaving markers of their blooming, beautifully unique relationship within fragments of the city. The notion of we were here. And it's strange because in terms of plot lines, this film doesn't have too many. That isn't what drives this film. I could tell you the entire plot and you would still be none the wiser about this incredible film. If anything, you might be more reluctant to watch it.

The magic of this film, lies in its dialogue, and how it connects these two strangers together in mind, heart, and soul. The majority of Before Sunrise comprises of this endless stream of conversation between Jesse and Celine, and that is the very thing that makes this film so endearing and significant. To have an entire film expertly and faultlessly carried, merely by the continuous dialogue, is really quite something, and it also attests to the importance and realism of this dialogue. Much of it was written by Ethan Hawke and Julie Delpy themselves, and it is so humane, so real, so rich. In Before Sunrise, we see the humble art of conversation take centre stage. It is placed at the very core, and hence it becomes a gravitational point around which the worlds of Jesse and Celine revolve. And from this vantage, we see the premise of conversation from so many different perspectives. We see the way it binds. The way we sometimes falter and stumble over our words. The things we say and the things we don't. The way it paints a picture of who we are as people. The power it affords us to reach out to another mind, another, soul, another body, and make a connection. The way it helps our soul to find those that are like-minded. The way it can transport us from the past to the present to the future. The way we can talk about the concrete. The way we can talk about the abstract. The magnificence of dialogues and monologues, and how they have the power to completely change your life. The immense joy and simple pleasure we take away from the acts of self expression and listening.

In this modern age, technology gives us many an excuse to disengage from human interaction. Our words can become cold and lifeless and misunderstood, misused, when transported via the means of a computer or a mobile phone. Technology, amazing as it is, just cannot replace the magic, depth, warmth, power and beauty of conversation in all its glory. Watching Before Sunrise makes me yearn for conversation. It has made me appreciate it perhaps more than I have ever done in my life. It makes me hopeful that one day I too will meet somebody with whom I connect with so instantaneously, and with whom I can share that endless joy as we talk about everything and anything. Where talking is fuelled with that gorgeous energy and urgency to share every last waking thought that sparkles gallantly across your mind. Someone who I can talk to and listen to infinitely. I don't think anything ever makes me feel quite as content as a really good conversation does. It's almost as if this whole other realm of existence and possibility opens up, something that I feel Before Sunrise captures so well.

Another thing I loved about Before Sunrise, is how Jesse and Celine meet on a train, and the spontaneity that allows their relationship to grow. I read an interview with Richard Linklater, and it explained how it was important to him that Jesse and Celine meet whilst travelling, because travelling allows us to be more open to things outside of our usual realm. And I can't help but feel that that is so true. That transitory notion of travel, and the way both ourselves and our lives become suspended within these figments of motion, or worlds so different from our home. It almost seems to defy space and time and logic. Anything can happen. For fifteen minutes, an hour, a day, a week, a month, it feels like we're one step ahead of life instead of one step behind. It's the most perfect time for something meaningful to happen. And I don't know if Jesse and Celine's meeting is merely chance, or the weird and wonderful workings of fate, but irrespective of that, it makes me wonder who's path will cross mine as I journey throughout my life. I'm excited about who I will meet, and the places I will go, and I love this film for giving me that hope. I love this film for believing in the same magic of possibility that I do.

I love Celine for her wild unruly hair, strong feminist beliefs, aptitude for adventure, her intelligence, honesty and fiery sense of humour. I love Jesse for his thinly veiled romanticism, masked by cynicism, his boldness and courage, his shyness, his need to live so fully and his ability to follow his heart with complete faith and trust. I love the stunning backdrop of Vienna, and all the cinematic, lush, awe inspiring shots that remind you how the most simplest of things can be the most beautiful and meaningful. I love the celebration of youth, and the excitement it exudes. I love the celebration of friendships, relationships and connecting with somebody. I love the honesty of Jesse and Celine when it comes to expressing who they are, and how they feel, and where they want to go next. I love how this film makes you realise that a life can completely change in merely a minute, an hour, a day, for we have no idea who or what is waiting around the next corner. I love how this film perfectly captures the notions of spontaneity and impulsiveness, and the way they make life so exhilarating. I love the milkshake poem. I love the scene on the ferris wheel and in the sound booth at the record shop. I love the romantic simplicity of the ending, and how we're left with that hopeful wonder and anticipation: will they meet again at that time and that place? Will this be the start of the rest of their lives together? Will life return them to one another or will it get in the way, as it so often does? It reminded me of the novel One Day, which ends by going right back to the start, right back to that place in time where it all began. The premise of beginnings is so devastatingly beautiful.

Before Sunrise is one of those films that has the power to stay with you long after you've watched it. It's so faultless. So ingenious. So special. So hopeful. And the fact that there's two more films to follow, meaning we get to further follow the story of these affecting and brilliant characters, who we come to care for so deeply, is such a treat. In this trilogy. the already magnificent Richard Linklater has really created something so very unique and precious. What an extraordinary filmmaker. So clever at reflecting the simple magnificence embedded within everyday life. And at 20 years old, to find a film like this, well it just feels like it has the capacity to completely revolutionise my life. It opens my life right up into an open highway full of excitement, hope, possibility. It makes me realise how far I've already come, and not only where I want to go from here, but how I'm going to get there. There's still so much I want to see, do, experience, feel. Life is only just beginning, and I can't wait to find out what happens next. 
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